Occupational Therapy
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: Sequel to "What Ales You". Molly has been having a rough time at work. Sherlock helps her work out the kinks...as it were.


If you have NOT read my other story _What Ales You_, first off...WHY NOT?! Ahem...secondly...PLEASE go read that first, as the context will help greatly.

Anyway, Just a short one-shot of sexy fun between my OTP. **I do not own anything, just the ideas for the stories**. Enjoy!

**Occupational Therapy**

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It had been one year. One year of a wonderful, albeit, unconventional relationship. The whole reason they had even finally got together was the fact that Sherlock did _not_ like sharing what he considered his. Especially when that was his pathologist...and even more so, when he was sharing her with perverted men who frequented a very popular Strip Pub in Soho. Now, it had been a year later, and Sherlock had the perfect way to thank his lovely female companion for her many _spoils_ to him.

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Molly had had the longest day of her life. There had been a terrible accident, killing a bus load of senior citizens, as it slid on a muddy path and down a ravine. Molly was the attending pathologist that day, and had done as many as seven of the 15 autopsies. It only made matters worse that these were kindly old people, half of whom had died from heart attack due to the fright. She trudged into the main entrance of 221 Baker Street, and tiredly walked down the stairs to her flat. Upon opening the door, however, she was greeted with dim lights, a smooth, soft music playing in the other room, and the smell of home cooked roast and carrots, her favorite. She tossed her bag and coat onto the floor next to her closet, much too tired to actually hang them properly. As she strolled into her living area, she saw Sherlock sitting on her plush sofa, legs crossed at the ankles and his hands suspended behind his head. He looked up to her, and his face broke into a sly sort of grin.

"Hello, Molly. I'm glad you're here." Sherlock's voice was silk to her ears, and she eyed him suspiciously as he stood, his lean torso stretching the buttons on his shirt to their absolute max. Molly, tired as she was, was also now very, very aroused. He held out a hand to her, and she graced it with her own.

"Sherlock, what is this about?" She asked with a bit of a flustered tone. He smiled, and escorted her to her small dining room table. After pulling out a chair, he led her to sit down, before pushing her easily to the table's edge. With a flex of his wrist, he moved the cover over the medium sized pot that sat in the center of the oak table, revealing its contents to her. Molly breathed in the delicious aroma of the meal, and her eyes drifted closed upon savoring the scent. When she opened her lids again, she was amazed further, to see Sherlock serving her from the dish. He was silent, simply fixing his gaze upon the task at hand. She couldn't tear her eyes from him as he moved, her own gaze falling from his face to his deft hands. When he had finished serving her, he moved to the other side of the table, and seated himself in the pairing chair. He dished a portion of the meat onto his own plate, followed by the carrots and bits of potato that floated in the stewing juices of the roast. He nodded his head, motioning for her to try it. Molly cut into the meat, which didn't need cutting at all, as it simply fell apart on impact of her knife. She stuck the fork through a chunk of it, and held it up to her lips. As the juicy dinner slipped over her taste buds, Molly gasped. Her eyes widened as she tasted the flavors, and she shot him a surprised look. Sherlock didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, his face held a smug grin of satisfaction as he cut into his own slice. Molly had little care if he saw her feast on the amazing supper, so she indulged herself quickly. When she had finished, she licked the last of the juices from her lips, and sipped from the wine glass at the side of the plate. Sherlock's brow was arched in amusement as he enjoyed watching her spoil herself with his cooking. Only when he had finished his own meal, did he speak again.

"Would you care for dessert?" His voice was lower than before, and his eyes danced with an unknown light. Molly gave him a sort of confused look as she hadn't seen any plates set aside for another course.

"There's dessert too?" She asked, a bit eagerly. He chuckled and stood up, walking to her side of the table once more. He held out his hand again, and she took it. Molly allowed him to lead her to the living room, and he delicately pushed her back so she sat on the sofa.

"There is, if you would like anyway. I realized about a week ago that you've been having a fairly hard time at work. I thought, perhaps if you had some _therapy_, that you'd feel a bit more relaxed." He smiled a bit. It was the way he had said that word, that Molly caught his intentions. She immediately flushed, and her teeth lightly scraped her lower lip as she watched him slowly unbutton his suit jacket. His deep blue eyes anchored her stare to his own as he slowly peeled the jacket off. The pace he set frustrated her, until she realized what he was doing. She suppressed a giggle.

"Sherlock Holmes, are you stripping for me?" Her smile grew tenfold as his only response was a wicked grin, followed by a cleverly raised brow. She crossed her legs on the sofa, making herself more comfortable for her 'show'. Sherlock continued, his long musician's fingers undoing the buttons of his crisp, white shirt, one at a time. As he unfastened each one, his equally pale skin was exposed for her enjoyment. When all of the buttons were separated from their loops, his shirt simply hung open, allowing her to see the almost blonde peach fuzz that trailed along his chest. One of the many endearing qualities that Molly had discovered about the consulting detective in their past year together. He kicked his shoes off to the side of the room. Molly giggled as he attempted to keep his balance, while still appearing suave. Next was his belt. He looped the strap through its buckle slowly, teasing her with his reluctant pace. Molly decided she really did like this. In her past experience, the stripping was a means of income, which turned into a means of entertainment for Sherlock when he was feeling particularly, affectionate. She now saw why he enjoyed it so much. Molly felt her breath hitch as he whipped the leather belt from the last loophole in his trousers, dropping it to the floor. His deft hands went for the button next, and was immediately followed by the zipper. A slow, agonizingly slow job he made it, and Molly could only watch as he pulled down. The metal teeth made a slow, quiet clanking sound as they separated, and the detective felt a swell of pride as he watched her watching him. He pushed the fabric of his trousers down, and they eventually fell due to gravity alone. A quick step out from the legs, and he now stood before her, wearing nothing but his unkempt dress shirt and his pants. The strip tease was charming to the pathologist, but she was growing more impatient, and definitely more insistent on speeding things along. Without saying a word, Molly stood up, and toyed with the ends of his shirt. She pulled him closer, allowing her fingers to travel through the small hairs that peppered his slim belly. Sherlock gave her a look of mischievous warning.

"Ah, but I thought you weren't allowed to touch during a strip tease." He held her hands in his own now, guiding them away from his body. Molly giggled before leaning in to kiss him, hard.

"Yes, but I rather like the touching." She said playfully, quoting him from the first time they were together. Sherlock chuckled into her lips, before he caught her lower lip with his teeth. Molly moaned into the harsh kiss, her hands once again gliding across his chest. His hands were soon running up the back of her blouse, smoothing over her soft flesh. Sherlock gently moved her back to the sofa, where he lowered her to lie on the cushions. Molly let her head roll back as he began to place strategic kisses on her throat, moving down so quickly. She could feel his fingers undoing the buttons on her blouse now, and the cool air of her flat nipped at her sensitive skin when it was revealed.

"Mm, Sherlock..." Molly tangled her fingers through his hair, pushing him further down, encouraging him to move lower on her body. He obeyed, kissing and licking down to the small amount of fabric between her breasts. She arched her back, letting him snake his hands underneath her to remove her bra. He tossed the obstructing piece of clothing away from them, letting it fall to the floor, before he returned to her pinking skin. Sherlock had always paid very good attention to her breasts, Molly felt, and this time was no exception. The timid woman let out a long mew of contentment as he suckled her, nibbling at her as if she were a piece of fruit. Her shirt lay crumpled beneath her on the couch pillows, and she could feel her panties begin to collect moisture as this fantastic lover made his way over her hills and valleys with his mouth. He was now kissing down to her navel, his eyes looking up to gauge her reaction, as he always did. Molly returned the look, her eyes half lidded with pleasure. She stroked a stray curl out of his face, allowing him to see her more clearly. She felt him pull her skirt down and over her hips. The lacy material slid effortlessly down her smooth legs, and he finally flipped it over her feet. The skirt landed somewhere on the sofa behind him. It was then that he traced the lacy edge of her underwear with his tongue. Molly immediately arched upward, wanting more contact, and less fabric to block it. Sherlock grinned with a sly smirk as he hooked two fingers around the waistband of her knickers, and pulled down. Molly felt the cool breeze of him breathing over her folds, his cupid's bow lips pressing to her more intimate ones as the last bit of fabric on her was removed.

"Molly..." Sherlock murmured as he began to taste her. She barely got out a hushed 'hm', before he was undoing her with his tongue. She writhed against him, her head pressing back into the seat of the couch more than before. Her hands flew to anchor her to something sturdy, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other wrapping like ivy around the armrest of the sofa. Sherlock continued to toy with her, bringing her close to utter destruction, all before backing away, making her buck against him for more pressure.

"Oh bloody hell, Sherlock, please..." Molly cried out as he lapped away at her, his tongue moving more insistently on her nerves. She fell over the ledge of pure bliss then, her limbs straightening out completely, before she went limp underneath his touch. As Sherlock pressed a final kiss to her, she shivered, the hypersensitive nerve endings shorting out. Molly let out a slow, shaky breath as he emerged from between her legs, a proud smile on his face. Molly smiled weakly up at him as he kissed his way back up to her mouth.

"Feeling better?" He asked as he gave her a chaste peck. Molly tiredly chuckled, before nodding in response. She felt him shift against her, his hardness rubbing along her thigh. This time she arched a curious brow, and her lips curled into a devilish smile. Sherlock matched the expression, and in a quick move, hoisted her up and over his shoulder. Molly let out a squeal, followed by laughter, as he carried her down the hall to her bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him, and proceeded to finish his show for her, followed by a few more sessions of her much needed 'therapy'.

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Well, there's that. I hope you all enjoyed the funny, sexytimes that occurred. It took me all frakking day to write this, mainly because I kept cracking up at the idea of Sherlock doing little sexy dances...which obviously did NOT make it into the final cut. Lol. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.


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